


Francis

by historynerd1783



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton-Fandom, Lams-Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historynerd1783/pseuds/historynerd1783
Summary: Two weeks previous to this chapter taking place, John and Alex broke up. John went home to Charleston, where he was bound to run into Henry's protege at his land development company, Francis. Francis and John casually dated before John moved to New York where he met Alex.





	Francis

John’s chilly fingers slid across the top of the door frame of the guest house at the family home in Charleston. His fingertips found cold metal and he plucked it from its space and unlocked the door, flicking the light switch on the wall. He sucked in a sharp breath exhaled slowly, closing the door behind him, setting the key on the arm of the sofa closest him. 

John had fond memories of time spent in this guest house, but it was the ones that hurt that flooded back to him now. The wall that Alex had slid down when they took a took short break from their heated argument. He’d been here just two weeks ago, but everything had changed since then. John and Alex had returned from a night at a club with his friends where Francis had managed to gain an audience with John alone, apologizing for his inappropriate advances at a holiday party earlier in the week. Seen as a betrayal by Alex, but not John, it had thrown fuel on the fire of the tension that had been between them, resulting in a fight with Alex and, when John defended Francis to Alex back at the guest house, it was more than Alex could take. He’d flown back to New York, changing his flight so that they flew separately and packing his belongings before John had even made it home.

When he booked the ticket to Charleston he promised himself he would avoid this space. The painful memories crowded out the wonderful ones and he was barely keeping his head above water as it was. He couldn’t resist coming down, though he regretted it almost immediately. He could smell Alex’s body wash, he was sure. He breathed in deep through his nose trying to commit the smell to memory, then walked to turn on the fireplace, the only other source of light he cared for. His lip curled up in a smile, remembering a game of strip something or other he’d played with Alex on the floor, he had been too drunk to remember anything other than the gradual revelation of Alex's body. He ran his hands through his hair, scratching his scalp and went to the kitchen where he easily found the half-empty bottle of tequila from the cupboard above the stove and a shot glass from the dish rack. He filled it, tossing it back right away. He began to pour a second when he heard a light knock at the door. The sun had set hours ago, the only light outside coming from the pool in front of the small guest house. He quickly drank the shot and slammed the glass down on the counter and went to open the door to find Francis rubbing his hands together in the cold.

“What are you doing here?” John asked exasperated. Francis blew on his hands and took a step forward inviting himself in. John stopped him with a palm on his chest and a shake of his head. “No.” Francis rolled his eyes and pushed past John who huffed out an annoyed breath. “Hey, I don’t want to see you.” Francis ignored John and walked to the kitchen after spying the bottle and glass on the counter. John swore under his breath and closed the door with a slam. “Relax, I just wanted to talk for a few minutes.” John walked quickly to the kitchen and turned on a light so they weren’t in the dark and leaned against the counter opposite him with his arms and feet crossed. If his words didn’t convince Francis he didn’t want him here, his body language spoke volumes. 

——-

Francis took a step towards John and touched his forearm crossed over his chest lightly. John’s muscle tensed under Francis’ touch and his fingers flexed. “This isn’t like the last time I saw you, you know. I’m not trying to get you back, I just…” Francis’ voice dropped and his eyes moved down John’s chest to where his hand still rested on John’s arm, his thumb moving in rhythmic circles as he continued, “…I miss being around you.” John had been staring at Francis’ hand on his arm, but his eyes now ticked up to meet him, his features softening some at the familiarity of Francis and the very nearness of him. Francis took Johns silence as a victory and he ducked his head to kiss John lightly, his lips barely brushing against his. John shut his eyes tight but didn’t recoil from the kiss. Francis pulled back a fraction and smiled at John, slipping his hands along the hem of his sweater as he pressed his lips to John’s again, deepening the kiss with his first breath. Francis’ lips were familiar and yielding and it felt good to be touched again so he put up no resistance when he pushed his hands under John’s sweater and caressed his waist. His tongue found John’s, sliding against his and he moved his hands up the back of John’s sweater, cool hands on warm skin. John pressed his hands against the top of Francis’ ass and pulled him against the length of his body so their hips touched, his mouth moving with Francis’ in a kiss that had quickly become consuming.

John imagined Alex referring to Francis as an asshole, as he had done numerous times and immediately broke the kiss, pushing against Francis’ hips so there was space between them. “What’s wrong?” Francis asked, his arms reaching for John’s waist again. John slapped a hand down and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “You should go.” It would be pointless to tell Francis he felt like he was betraying Alex. He would remind him that Alex wasn’t there and that they weren’t together anymore and John had no need for further reminders of that. “Why?” Francis huffed. He took a half step closer to John but was wise enough to know not to touch him. The kiss had felt good and he wanted Francis and he felt sick to his stomach with guilt about it but he also knew he could follow through if he wanted to. There was nothing and no-one to stop him. Maybe Alex had already been with someone else, he’d have no problem finding someone new. Women flocked to Alex everywhere. John shook his head, staring at the floor and tried to convince himself it was ok. He didn’t need to feel guilty, he was free to fuck whomever he wanted. Still, there was no-one on this planet John could sleep with that would upset Alex more and it felt like poking a bear having Francis this close. 

In a remarkably confident move, Francis slowly undid the top button of his shirt underneath his tie, loosened at some point between dinner ten minutes ago and now. “Don’t overthink it, John,” he whispered and undid a second button. John’s head was foggy from several glasses of wine at dinner, and tequila and Francis’ mouth on his and his breath came quicker as Francis loosened his tie enough that he was able to remove it setting it on the counter next to the bottle of tequila. He moved closer to John so he could feel his breath on his cheek and undid a third button while John watched entranced. John made a split second decision. “Fuck him,” John muttered and pressed his hands to Francis’ hips and his mouth to his neck in an instant. Francis hit the counter behind him and angled his head so John could cover more of his neck with his mouth, dragging his tongue as he worked from his throat to his earlobe. Francis moaned and pushed his hands up John’s sweater again, feeling the planes of his chest. It felt far too good for John to even think about stopping now, so he pulled far enough back to reach behind him and pull the sweater over his head, dropping it to the floor before crashing his mouth against Francis’ again. He kissed him messy and deep while his fingers fumbled with the remaining buttons of Francis’ shirt. The last button had an errant thread wrapped around it that made it impossible to get off easily. Frustrated, John pulled the two halves of the shirt apart, ripping the final button loose. Francis huffed, annoyed. “You can buy me a new one.” Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, John rolled his eyes and replied, “fuck that, my father pays you enough, buy your own,” his hands sliding down to Francis’ ass, lifting him slightly before putting him back down. Francis pushed John backwards until he hit the counter again and kissed his throat, nipping at his skin so John shivered. His mouth moved down John’s chest, sucking softly at a pec while his right hand moved up the inside of his thigh. John gasped, pressing his hips forward in search of contact, a hand tight around the back of Francis’ neck. He heard a low chuckle from Francis before he felt his long fingers in the top of his pants, undoing the button and pushing his zipper down. His pants dropped to the floor easily, loose as they were on John. He felt Francis’ palm on his crotch, cupping his balls gently and moaned despite himself before pressing his lips to Francis’ again in a hard kiss that forced him to take a deep breath through his nose. Francis broke the kiss first, kissing down John’s chest and back up again, then breaking free to toe off his shoes. 

It gave John a moment to think and he shook his head back and forth remembering he wasn’t prepared for the evening. “I don’t have a condom,” he told Francis who was now undoing his own suit pants. “And?” he replied. John narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head slowly. “I’m not doing this without one.” Francis rolled his eyes and bent down to fumble around in his pants pocket. When he straightened back up again he produced a gold foil condom package, held between his index and middle finger. He was also sporting an overconfident grin that pissed John off. “I don’t recall you ever being so prepared when we were dating,” he said bitterly. Francis shrugged and stepped out of his pants so both men were dressed down to their briefs. “I’m sure this will come as a surprise to you, you egomaniac, but you aren’t the last man I’ve been with.” John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to talk himself out of this. It had bad idea written all over it, but Francis made a very compelling argument standing before him in nothing but his Gucci briefs so he picked up the tequila, taking a sip from the bottle and grabbed Francis’ wrist, pulling him down the hallway, past the room he’d shared with Alex, to the spare room at the end. Francis pulled back on John when they passed the main bedroom and opened the door. “Why aren’t we going in here?” John let go of Francis’ wrist and held the door to the spare room open. “We just aren’t. It’s here or have a safe drive home, which is it?” Francis put up his hands defensively and strode past John, slapping his ass lightly on the way. 

When they were done, John waited for his breath to return to normal before going out to collect Francis’ clothes, which he deposited on the bed where he’d gently pushed him less than an hour ago. Francis had made himself comfortable in the bed, which had prompted John to get up in the first place. “You should get going,” he told him politely. Francis pouted and wiped the corners of his mouth. “Oh? I can stay if you want company.” John pulled his briefs back on and let the waistband snap against his skin. “I’m good, I’d rather be alone, to be honest, and I don’t want my father noticing your car is still here and wondering where you are.” Francis sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet landing on the floor. “Can I at least shower first?” “No,” John said, perhaps too harshly. He handed Francis his shoes and apologized. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just, I came down here to be alone.” Francis nodded and started getting dressed, chattering on about things they should do while John was in town and how much they’d be seeing each other since he worked so closely with Henry. When he was finally dressed, John walked him to the door, holding it open for him immediately, eager for him to leave. 

Francis grinned as he stood in the doorway buttoning up the coat he’d carried down on his arm. “I’m glad I came down,” he said and leaned in to kiss John lightly. John allowed it but turned his head to discourage any further contact. “Goodnight Francis,” John said flatly. He didn’t allow Francis an opportunity to say anything further, closing the door so he had to leave. He didn’t watch him walk up to the main house, he grabbed his clothes from the kitchen floor and quickly got dressed, anxious to leave and go back to the comfortable solitude of his room. He returned the brass key to the lip in the siding above the door and went back to the house with the bottle of tequila tucked under his arm.


End file.
